My knight in a grey Dodge

by Katie on August 29, 2013

When I was a teenager, I was notorious for running out of gas. Notorious. It was much too common of an occurrence for such a ridiculous act. Luckily, sometime after I turned 20, I got my act together and it hasn’t happened since. Sometime after I ran out of gas on a busy Harvey Road in College Station and the only person I could reach who could help me at the time was my ex-boyfriend. And I don’t mean ex-boyfriend, like now of course he’s my ex-boyfriend because I am a happily married woman. I mean ex-boyfriend, like he was my ex-boyfriend the day I called him and he had to bring me gas. Fun times.

I digress…

So, anyway, it’s been quite some time since I experienced the sheer helplessness and embarrassment that comes from running your car past empty on the side of the road.

Until last Friday, anyway.

The really ridiculous part of the story is that I went to the grocery store (where I also get gas) the day before. But I did not notice I needed gas until I was already halfway home. I should have turned around anyway, but it was getting close to Leyton’s morning naptime, and I could tell she was already drifting, so I chose to avoid the dreaded car nap instead getting gas like a smart person. Hint:  not the better decision.

Then, when I had to run errands in Buckeye Friday, I forgot (again) about my “fuel level is low” warning until halfway through my errands. But I had already driven past the one gas station on my route, and gas is more expensive there. Who detours a whole half-mile when they’re running on empty and pays a couple cents more for gas, anyway? Clearly, only smart people.

I mean, surely I could make it home from my errands, and then to my regular gas stop another time, right?

Wrong. Oh, so wrong.

Because exactly one-half a mile from our turn-off street, one single mile from our front door, I noticed my car was decelerating on its own. Having experienced this before, I at least knew I needed to seek safety on the side of the road, and made a good stop on the shoulder just in time for the car to die.

And then I began to think about my plan of action. Had I been alone, this would not have been an issue at all. I would have walked or ran home, depending upon my footwear, then lugged my gas can on foot back to the car. But I was not alone. Had I had a stroller in the car at the time, I would have strapped Leyton in and we would have had a nice [scorching] stroll home and I would have retrieved my car at a later time. But I did not have a stroller.

I had to call my dear, sweet, understanding, patient husband. Except, in cases like these, he is none of those things. (By this, I only mean I would not be living down something like this anytime soon.)

So I did. And I received laughter on the other end of the phone. But, obviously, no hesitation in coming to my rescue.

When he arrived (just in time, I might add – it was approaching “sweltering” in that car), I thanked him as he was putting gas in the car.

“No problem,” he said. “You just have to blog about this and make fun of yourself on the Internet for once, that’s all.”

“You got it,” I said.

“Just be glad you had my daughter with you. I may have let you sit here and suffer awhile,” he said. Joking. Or at least I think he was joking.

“Thank you, Dear, for rescuing me and saving your daughter,” I said, “But if I wouldn’t have had her, or would have had the stroller in the car, I would have just walked home and brought my lawn mower gas can later.”

“Katie, are you telling me you really would have walked a mile, in the middle of the summer, in the middle of the day?”

“If I had to choose between that and having to call you and tell you what I did, you better believe it.”

And while I should be ashamed of such a prideful answer, you better believe it’s the truth.


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